


Fire Under the Mountain

by Teawithmagician



Series: Bagginshield [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo Has Doubts, Established Relationship, Extended Scene, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Genderbending, Missing Scene, Possessive Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 16:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teawithmagician/pseuds/Teawithmagician
Summary: The dragon is dead, glory for the dragon! Didn't you know, Thorin Oakenshield, the story of a dragon slayer who once became the dragon himself?





	

**Author's Note:**

> *Story takes place in the gap shortly after the Desolation of Smaug and right before the Battle of Five Armies  
> *If we met before, you already know it's angsty and dark, but it'll be better in the end  
> *female Bilbo/Thorin is forever otp, yup

Thorin stood with his hand on the tooth of the wall, rubbing his coaly with soot and smoke face. Bilba called his name, yet Thorin didn't even moved his head. She approached, limping, and took him by the sleeve. 

“He is going to the Lake-town,” Bilba pulled Thorin's sleeve. He didn't wipe off the soot, just smeared it. “He will burn 'em all. They did nothing.” 

“There were enough innocents in Dale,” Thorin rubbed underneath the eye and looked at Bilba. Whiteness of his eyes looked spooky on the dark face. “Women and children burned in the halls of Erebor. Old men and women. Guild penmen, miners, craftsmen. It's a dragon. It doesn't care whom it burns.”

Bilba looked at Thorin, squinting, her eyes were sore. She knew he wasn't right, but she didn't have the words to tell him. Thorin put his elbow on the wall, moving his weight to the left leg. There were blisters on his neck, being seen in the torn collar of the shirt. There were scorches between his fingers, on his arms under the leather bracelets and on his forehead, looking like a fiery petal.

“Come,” Thorin said.

“What?” Bilba didn't understand. The golden spot in the fog over the lake moved away, she was afraid to see the flashes of fire on the water. 

Thorin sighed and put his heavy arm on the Bilba's shoulders, drawing her closer. He smelled like sweat and sulfur, and musty coal. Bilba shrank like a sparrow, burying her face into his chest, and Thorin stroke her hair, kissing her into the top of the head. 

“You did right. Did everything I told.”

Bilba clenched her fingers on Thorin's back, thinking about him blocking her way with the sword. How he looked at her, wolf-like from under the eye, asking her about the Arkenstone. The stone drew off the pocket of Bilba's fur robe, she tried not to press into Thorin with that her side. He shouldn't feel it. 

“People will die,” Bilba said. Thorin didn't answer.

There were no wounds, just blisters, burned hair and torn clothes. They set fire into the watchtower, took out the goods. Thorin sat at the fireplace, his fingers clenched, and looked into the fire. That was Bilba's turn and Balin called her name. Looking at Thorin imperceptibly, Bilba approached. 

“Nothing in special, mistress Baggins,” Balin touched the scab on Bilba's ear, sore skin on her leg, and patted her on the shoulder. “Nothing bad at all.”

Smaug told he was flying to the Lake-town,” Bilba looked at Thorin. He didn't move, didn't blink, didn't say a word. “People there, they know nothing. There's... There's Fili, Kili, – Bilba remembered. – Bofur and the rest!”

“We can't do a thing about it now.”

Balin looked at Bilba with a weird expression. His regretting face looked set, as though carved from a pale stone. Bilba looking at him, Bilba had a feeling she was looking at a dead man. She shook her head. 

“I must have hit my head while running. I don't understand,” she said, running fingers through her hair. “Why are you so calm? Don't you understand that everyone will die?” 

“We understand,” Balin's voice sounded old like time itself. – We've seen it before. When everything we knew, was lost. There's an ancient telling, mistress Baggins. Once touched with the dragon's flame is a dead man, even though a living.” 

“I... I need to think about it,” Bilba stood up, pulling her vest. There wasn't much left of it, mostly rags and dirt, but the habit kept her well. “I need to be alone. To think, maybe.” 

“You'd better be with Thorin,” there was a glimpse of life in Balin's stone eyes. “You need it both now.””What?” Bilba didn't believe her ears. Balin smiled uncertainly and called Dwalin in. 

A few needed bandaging, so Balin didn't run out of the swathes. Balin didn't bandage himself, Dawlin helped him. Dwalin pulled the bandages so tight dwarves twitched, though didn't complain. Bilba got into the corner, away from the fireplace, saying she wasn't hungry when the food was ready. Dwarves didn't talk, even seemed to breathe quietly.

They prepared to sleep in silence, rolling the blankets over the stone floor. Thorin went to sleep higher in the tower, to the watchman's post, so Bilba had to wait for the last coals to go out, and the guards to go down on the positions to watch the entrance. Bilba thought about the dead dwarves they've found in the blocked passage, it seemed that the smell of the crypt interfered with the smells of the camp.

When Bilba got up and walked up the staircase, hairy feet moving softly, she thought about Balin, who knew, but not from Kili, who had seen. He knew because he noticed. Back in time, Bilba would want to grab her head, then she felt only a vague bewilderment: why didn't she think about it earlier?

When Thorin spoke to her, and she was on the pony, ad he held her ankle. When she jumped off the tree, he said he would catch her. He took care of her, pretending he cared no more than of everyone else, but he didn't give his reserve cloak to the others in rain, and he didn't ask if they were full or tired.

This time Thorin decided that deaths of his nephews and people of Esgaroth were worth of dragon's gold. Bilba remembered the coldness of the sword at her belly. She shouldn't go to him, yet she wanted to see him. Wanted to see she was mistaken.

Thorin lied in the darkness, his arm on his belly. Bilba squatted and unbent the blanket, getting inside. She rested closer to him, putting her hand on his chest. Her eyes got accustomed to the dark, she saw Thorin's eyes closed.

“Good you've come,” Thorin's fingers reached hers. “I wouldn't call for you myself.”

“Why?” 

“I didn't know if I can trust you from the beginning. Now I know. You are mine and you wouldn't lie to me. There's one last thing to be done, without it I will have no calm or honor.”

“What last thing?”

Bilba though of Esgaroth. She knew Thorin couldn't leave it to burn for gold. He set his mind right, he just needed time. Her granny used to say, men were slow thinkers, they needed more time... 

“Find me Arkenstone,” Thorin opened his eyes. He caressed Bilba's cheek, taking hold of her chin. Bilba couldn't even blink, frozen. 

“Find me Arkenstone, little love. If you haven't found it yet. And you haven't?” Thorin asked insinuatingly, and Bilba shook her head, licking her lips. She was lucky to put Arkenstone, wrapped in rugs, into the wall on her way to Thorin.

Looking into Thorin's eyes, Bilba couldn't understand if he believed her or not. In any way, he let go of her chin.


End file.
